(no subject)

[initiates]

Date: February 1st
Location: The Initiative Hold & Courtyard.
Characters: Everyone.
Summary: New Transports have all arrived and have been shuffled into the Courtyard after their initial briefings, while older Transports are returning from the mission to Uruguay.
Warnings: None.

While those who have been guests of Exsilium since at least the last wave of Transports return from their desperate mission and are pressed out of the Transporter room and into the Courtyard, the Initiative prepares to receive a second wave at the same time. And if you're in that second wave, the fresh meat, then you've just been hustled and bustled through mazes of information and literal, wide corridors of the Initiative Hold and you've been equipped with your weapon—be it a gun, a sword, or even your existing powers. They've handed you this light netbook and a small pouch of coins (or a debit card, if you're more inclined), and there are several Transports before and after you going through the very same motions. You can hear the Greeter's voice as she walks alongside large groups, telling them all about the history of this place and sharing with you your purpose here in a hurried and urgent tone. "You're in luck that we have enough rooms for all of you; the housing building is getting awfully full. Please, let me show you into the courtyard."

You pass what looks like huge gymnasiums, all with dummies and targets strewn and splayed around the room. Training areas. There are even classrooms, and a few small offices. You're rushed past a large library while the Greeter informs you that you can find almost all your information there, if you've got the time to look—and trust her, you'll have time. You don't spend a lot of time in the bank, and it's a bit of a blur of exchanges with more and more of these strangely-accented and oddly polite-seeming members of the Initiative.

Soon enough, you're in a massive courtyard bustling with all the other Transports. It's not exactly what you'd expect, and it looks more like barracks than anything—huge walls of concrete and stone, separating you from all of the hallways you'd just passed through. It's raining heavily, and dark clouds loom in the air, though it hasn't turned to snow. It's a chill cold, and there are shelters—long cloth hangings that extend from the walls of concrete to house you from the rain, but not enough. Most notably, the courtyard is filled with a marketplace. Even in the cold and the rain, there are several citizens seated at their covered booths and tables, bundled up against the weather. They're selling all manner of their own handmade goods and foods, and citizens and Transports alike are traveling from one small covered shop to another in search of all manner of necessities.

The Greeter's voice has become so faint now, but you swear you can make it out in the back of the crowds as she tells you, "Good luck. Be safe!"

Her voice is drowned out by the busy marketplace, though even the transactions taking place are somewhat subdued. Nobody is overly happy, really, though most citizens can be found with smiles on their faces. It doesn't seem like they're that shocked to see you, either; even if you're not bound in tattered rags and wrapped in heavy shawls as they are. You're welcome to walk up to a shop, and find yourself something to eat—hey, maybe you'll even find something akin to a raincoat. Or, you can join the others under the coverings against the walls. Where am I? What war? She was talking so fast, and it didn't all make very much sense… did anyone else catch it all?

Welcome to the courtyard. Welcome to the Initiative Hold—and most importantly, welcome to Exsilium

Comments

Re: ohohohoho perfect. will be slow btw!

[iorhael]

[Frodo's nose wrinkles with distaste at the acrid smoke that blows his way. Whatever leaf that is, it's a foul sort, and he hoped he didn't pay too much for it, for he has easily been cheated of a good leaf.]

Do you mind? [the Man's accent is thick, strange. It takes Frodo a moment to realize he said his name. His eyebrows furrow.]

How do you know me?

[justthedriver]

[ He doesn't recognise him. Nikolai cocks his head to the side almost immediately, his eyes narrowing. It's obvious that this is the same man- or whatever creature Frodo is- because he recognises the name, acknowledges it to be his own, and yet he does not remember Nikolai.

Weird. He looks at Frodo for a long moment more, taking a drag of his cigarette. The tobacco is so obviously stale that it doesn't even crackle from the flame, and Nikolai quirks his lips up slightly. ]

You were being chased by monster once. I killed it. [ He shrugs slightly. Blows the smoke into Frodo's face. ]

I do mind.

[iorhael]

[Frodo coughs, and steps further off, frowning at the Man]

And I mind even more so; do stop smoking in my direction.

[the Man's gaze is piercing, and somehow worse, knowing. Frodo has had quite enough of people knowing of him before he knows a thing about them. Aragorn had only meant to help, but even Frodo found it tiring after awhile to be kept in darkness and mystery and riddles.]

I imagine one could never forget being chased by a monster or rescued by a man of your look, and I don't remember such at all. Who are you?

[justthedriver]

[ It's not really worth the effort to keep smoking and blowing the smoke to Frodo's face. Nikolai has disconcerted him enough by his words without using special effects, and he takes a last drag of the cigarette. He looks Frodo in the eyes before he turns away and lets the smoke drag itself out of his nose. ]

идиот. [ Idiot.

He turns the cigarette around and sticks out his tongue. Stubs out it on it before he tosses it to the ground and grinds out it with his feet. It makes his mouth taste like an ashtray, but Nikolai is used to the taste. ]

Your people, I remember, they have last names. Frodo Baggins. Unlike the rest of those where you come from.

[ He points to himself. ] Nikolai Luzhin. [ A quirk of his lips, as if he knows a joke Frodo doesn't. ]

[iorhael]

[For a moment, the Man reminds Frodo uncomfortably of a dragon - boney face, half-lidded eyes, and smoke curling up out of his nose. The harsh sound that comes out of him is a word, but makes no sense, but Frodo winces visibly when the stranger stubs out the burning stick on his tongue. And here he had thought he had seen rough sorts back in Bree!]

Yes, we do. [Frodo doesn't particularly like that this Man knows his full name but it seems there is no helping it. Frodo rallies himself.]

[he doesn't particularly want to offer the polite, usual way to an introduction to this Man, so he settles on something else. He doesn't quite sound like he means it] Well met, I suppose. And I take it you know more people from where I come from? Who?

[justthedriver]

[ Who indeed? Nikolai cocks his head and for the first time since he's come in here, he realises that something is wrong. It's not the fact that he's in a new place - that much he's grown used to. But there's people. Whom he doesn't remember. His mind slips away from them, his memories growing slick. And as he tries to capture them, frowning, he realises it's like trying to grab hold of mist with his bare hands.

Strange. And Nikolai doesn't like it. But he doesn't show it. ]

One or two, here and there. [ He makes an oblique gesture with his hand. ] You know everyone in your world? Every name come up with, you know face?

[ They have odd names, Nikolai remembers. Frodo. Aragorn. Legolas. Some more. There are some more. But they slip away from him, and Nikolai's frown deepens even more. He doesn't like it. There's nothing more important to someone like him - aside from his eyes - than his memories.

Stranger and stranger. ]

[iorhael]

[with such a close resemble to Aragorn, he could see how others might be drawn to him. But it has made clear in only moments that the Man is not anything like him at all.]

No, of course not. But those I have seen here, I do know them.

Who have you met from my world?

[justthedriver]

[ Nikolai has plenty of practice pretending to have knowledge that he doesn't have. He crooks a smile, hiding his unease at his own inability to remember, and gives Frodo a shrug. ]

Tell you already. Some here, some there. [ That is not what he just said, and Nikolai grins. ] Why do you want to know so badly? Afraid I will tell them secrets?

[iorhael]

[somewhat dryly]

Do you actually know any, other than myself?

An old hobbit's curiosity, Mister Luzhin. I hardly think you know any secrets I may keep.

[justthedriver]

[ Nikolai laughs. ]

Big eyes, face with no wrinkles, and he calls himself old. Rich to say he has no secrets.

[ It does explain Frodo's self-possession. Nikolai wonders why he remembers so much of the hobbit when others slip away from him. Like mist. His memory has never been so disobedient.

Maybe he's going senile. Wouldn't that be rich? ]

[iorhael]

[it is on the tip of his tongue to reply that some say "well-preserved", and that it runs in the family, and let Nikolai stew on that and see what he can make of it, but Frodo ignores the urge. He has since learned that to even make light of such things that are connected to the Ring or anything that could bring suspicion upon him, if possible. And a Man like Nikolai, he would much prefer didn't know about the Ring at all.]

I suppose I am just lucky. [this could not be farther from the truth in his opinion] But I have yet to meet anyone who has not got a secret, even a little one, of their own. Anyone who says otherwise would be lying.

Your secrets must hardly be the little sort.

[justthedriver]

[ Maybe he makes himself too obvious, that he hides his secrets. But then again, Nikolai doesn't think so. He has no secrets. The vor does not keep secret their crimes, but writes them out in black ink on their skins, over and over, until there are some of them who has no inch of skin not filled with black. (He remembers Kirill, the stars on his shoulders and no coppolas on his back - an undeserved vor, and that's no secret at all, clear to anyone who has eyes to see.)

But then again, he knows enough of these shifting worlds that vor language and code means little. That Frodo, like those of his world (he has two names now), won't understand what vor means, or criminals, or princes and kings who rule without legitimacy over shadows.

Nikolai shrugs. ]

I don't have many secrets. [ Glibly, knowing he will not be believed. He holds up his hands, knuckles outwards. ] All of it written out already. Just your fault if you don't know how to read.

[ That is the truth as much as he can make it to be. ]

[iorhael]

[The Man holds his knuckles out as if the hobbit's supposed to read whatever it is written on them.

Frodo can hear what Sam would say about the Man; "A queer one, sir, and no mistake", and Frodo would be inclined to agree with him.]

I can hardly be expected to read figures that I have never read the meaning for before today, and I understand even less why you would put them on your body in the first place.

But writing out your secrets for all to see seems rather foolish.

[justthedriver]

I tell you already: I don't have many secrets.

[ That's a lie and not a lie all at the same time (isn't that the case always, with him?). Nikolai's secrets aren't what he has done for the vor - no, that he wears on his skin, tattoos that are marks of pride, marks of shame, marks of sin- all at once. No, his secrets are in his reasons, in the nebulous things that mean nothing and everything in the minds of men, depending on who you ask. His secrets are in hidden in the depths of his mind when he twists Kirill around his fingers, the the tearing of his heart when he thinks of children who are sold like cattle, and in every reaction he's not supposed to have.

Nikolai doesn't have many secrets. He shrugs. ]

Not many people can read. People who can, they deserve to know.

[ Or rather, he wants them to know. But what's the use of telling a hobbit about the vor. ]

[iorhael]

[he finds that quite surprising; a man like Nikolai looks as if he ought to have nothing but secrets. He eyes the markings.]

Then if they are not your secrets, what do those markings speak of?

[justthedriver]

[ He shrugs, as if it doesn't really matter. ]

Sins. [ Pause. ] If you know the word.

[ Funny thing is, he's being completely honest. ]

[iorhael]

'Sin' [The word isn't quite pronounced the same as Nikolai's] 'thus' or 'this' in the high elven speech, though I suspect that is not what those markings are about.

[No, he doesn't know what that means]